Hail, Beruna
by CellarDoors
Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Beruna, Edmund decides a Vigil is much needed. Request from rye.bread; the fleshing out of a scene in my own fic 'Brother, Dearest Thou Art'


**Hail, Beruna!**

**Disclaimer: I own naught. **

**Author's N: In a review for **_**Brother, Dearest Thou Art**_**, the author/reviewer "" requested that I elaborated further upon the last chapter, in which the Narnians honour the dead. Here is that one shot – I hope it lives up to expectation. Thanks again go to Elecktrum for helping me with this.**

The battle had finished, the war ended. This landscape, which had once been so full of the clash of swords, the moans of men and littered with bodies... was now almost empty- a sheer memory in my mind. I could feel my brain attempting to repress it, but I would not allow it to be so. Narnia had paid a heavy price for my freedom, for her own freedom. We had counted over 2,000 fellow comrades dead, and Peter was the first to admit there were, most likely, more we had not yet counted. At least 300 Narnians were still lost – neither found dead nor alive – and the injured that Lucy had had to heal... we could not count. My heart was heavy, and although I did not dare to suggest I grieved more than any other, but the weight of my betrayal to this land weighed upon my shoulders heavier than the crown I now bore.

Two weeks after our coronation, I stood at the place I had once fought the Witch herself; where I had tried, so desperately, to save my brother, to somehow right the wrongs I had written into the veins of this world. My heart beat fast in my chest as I relived that memory; again, and again. Lucy had saved me with her cordial, as she had saved many others, but part of me had wished for death. If Narnia was to be cleansed of evil, then that evil's creator should indeed be wiped out in this river of death. I owed so much to this place. I had... changed. Lucy and Susan had both commented on it, and even Peter had admitted to the fact. I was trying so hard to discourage who I had once been from re-entering my heart; but I was terrified of the possibility that I might... transfer back. Though I knew Peter longed for nothing more than to forget what had passed, I refused to allow it. I had to find a way, I decided, of keeping this memory alive. However painful it might be, there must be a way in which we would remember, and continue to caution others against the foolishness that a young boy like myself could be drawn into.

I had already discovered I was... drawn, somewhat, to the lyrical tones Narnians music possessed. I had penned some notations – extremely choppy and nothing I would ever allow anyone else to see – down, but I was a scholar – nay, an amateur, - and I needed a music master who would be firm with me and teach me. Already, as I looked about, there were some echoing of a tune in my mind – nothing solid, but something I thought might become rather promising – and I managed a tiny smile.

Yes, indeed, that might satisfy its need. In a strange whirl of almost excitement, I span round, running back to the Cair. Upon entry, I found the General. "Oreius!" I called. The General moved to my side, tail swishing as if agitated.

"King Edmund, your brother—" I raised a hand to silence him, half panting for breath.

"You'll forgive me, Oreius, but whatever it is Peter wants can wait," I replied, breathlessly. "Who is Narnia's music master here?" The General blinked, utterly confused.

"Music Master?" he echoed. "Your Majesty, that would be Gnallic," he hurried to explain at my confusion. "He is oft to be found in the library, Highness..." I nodded.

"Thank you, General. Please convey my regrets to Peter for not being wherever he wishes me to be, but there is something much more pressing at hand. I shall explain all when I can," I promised, before turning and fleeing in the direction of the library.

Upon entry I all but flung the doors open in my hurry, startling several Fauns who were reading in a huddle, and ducking low as an Owl swept through in a flurry, only missing my head by a mere second. I hurried past the Fauns, over to where a Cat, Rhonda, the Library's master, sat, half curled on a chair. "Madam Rhonda," I called, moving over to the Cat as she raised her head, blinking in sleep, stretching before jumping from the chair, shaking out her fur.

"You call for me, O King?" She all but purred, sitting on her haunches and staring at me unblinkingly.

"Lady, you'll forgive me for disturbing your library," I apologised, kneeling to speak with her. "But I come upon a matter most urgent and needy. I was told that the music-master, Gnallic, would reside here?"

"Indeed, he does." I turned at the deep voice, blinking in astonishment as I met the eyes of the Ancient Centaur. He was huge – at least twice the size of Oreius and the others like him – with eyes that seemed to bore into my very soul. Perched upon his nose was a pair of spectacles that looked as though they might fall at any given second, and he bore a beard so white it could contest the snow. I swallowed, trying to find my voice, over-awed by this creature. "So, this is the Just King." His eyes swept across my face. "My son speaks well of you, King Edmund. But before me I see a boy, not the warrior he would have me believe you to be." He shook his head. "Is it possible the Stars have lied? Could my son have created a fairy-tale in order to please the Star-Gazers?"

I swallowed. "Centaur Gnallic," I began. "I cannot deny your accusations, for I am, indeed, only a boy, and no great warrior. But I am most certain that whatever the Stars have conveyed to you, it is but the truth. For I know of another Centaur who once told me that the Stars are the true Seers of life, death, and all else. Why else would Aslan have placed them in the skies? Who else could rein as high and so long as they have?"

The Centaur smiled, and in that moment he looked less terrifying. Indeed, for a brief second, I saw Professor Kirke of London, and the kindly smile of my father, whom I had so adored. "You speak well, Son of Adam. Indeed, you are... small... but you are young. The Lion would not have chosen you to rule with your Family without much reason to do so. I am curious to know the name of the Centaur of whom you speak, for he seems most wise, and I would converse with him."

"General Oreius, Centaur Gnallic," replied I. "And you are correct – he is most wise."

The Centaur chuckled. "Oreius indeed," He said with a smile, nodding. "I might have known such words would come from him."

I frowned. "Have you some slight against the General, Sir?" I asked, anxious not to cause argument with the Centaur, but unwilling to take any mockery against the General Peter and I so depended upon. The Centaur laughed; a deep rolling laugh that seemed to echo through the floor.

"Bless you, Son of Adam," he chuckled. "Hold your mind at rest, for I have naught against the General," he smiled kindly. "I am the General's Father, King Edmund."

My eyes widened and I all but gaped at him for a moment. Then, slowly, I began to see the similarities. The proud way they both held themselves; the same tone of colour in their eyes; yes, they were the same. The realisation hit upon me that I was, rather, looking upon Oreius as he would be in many years to come. I shook myself out of my stupor, knowing how rude it might seem. "Forgive me, Centaur Gnallic," I apologised. "I know I must seem rude, it is only that I'm rather... awed... to meet you,"

The Centaur laughed again. "There is nothing to forgive, King Edmund," he assured. "But we tarry. I believe you had something you wished to ask of me?" I frowned, having almost forgotten.

"Ah!" I nodded. Quickly I explained my idea to him, all the while afraid he would think it foolish and unnecessary. After I had spoken, the old Centaur smiled, nodding.

"I think Aslan has chosen his rulers well, King Edmund," he assured.

"You think it a good idea?" Enquired I; anxiously. "I would not wish to offend anyone..." The Centaur shook his head.

"You will offend no one," he promised. I sighed, relieved.

"Good, I am glad..." I admitted.

"Follow me, then, Majesty, and I shall teach you what you need to know," he promised.

(******)

We were worried. No, more than that, we were _scared_. Our brother had hidden himself from us, and we did not know what to make of it. I had heard rumours that he had become the pupil of Oreius' kin, but nothing was certain. Oreius himself had told us very little, except that we should bide our time, and trust in Edmund. My argument was that it was not my brother that I could not trust, but my brother's conscious. I had seen the wide-eyed look in his eyes on the battle field, seen how he had attacked Jadis with a fierce determination I had never seen from him, and I worried. Despite our differences, despite our past, he was my little brother, and I had failed to protect him from War, one of the most terrible crimes a man can witness in any world.

Four weeks to the day since Beruna and I found I could not sleep. The faces of those I had known, even in so short a space of time, haunted me. We had held some sort of a vigil for them, of course, but it seemed... too rushed. As a King, I was almost positive we could have done more. But for a High King of thirteen, it was all I had known to do; and that was only from what Oreius had suggested. I glanced out of my window. The Moon was proud in the sky, full and clear. It would be a hot Summer, if Oreius was correct (and he usually was). I was grateful, especially for the Narnians, who had seen a hundred Winters pass with no sunlight. They deserved the best Summer that Aslan could offer; and indeed, he was blessing this land. I had watched farmers exclaim over crops that began to grow, trees that all but cowed in delight as their branches bore flowers and fruits. I sighed, turning on my side, desperately trying to sleep, knowing there would be much to attend to in the morning. As my brain, slowly, began to turn off, I heard the door open, and ignored it, assuming it was a valet, or a member of court come to check the fire had died out. My eyes slipped closed, my breathing turning soft and even.

It was only moments later when I was shaken violently awake. I started up, reaching for a sword automatically, spinning to face whoever had woken me, ready to snap. My mouth closed as the General's face beamed down at me, and I let out a breath, sitting up. "General, is there something the matter?"I asked. "Have we been attacked?"

"Nay, good King," he assured. "Your brother requests your presence at Beruna," he explained.

I blinked. "Beruna...?"

He nodded. "Immediately, he says."

I sighed, forcing myself out of bed. "This is madness!" I protested. "Beruna is almost a day's walk from here!"

The Centaur smiled at me, as I moved to find clothing. "Not the way you are travelling, Sire."

(******)

Nearly an hour later, I trooped down the winding stair case, turning to see my sisters following, yawning and rubbing their eyes. I sighed as Susan turned to me. "Edmund better have a good explanation for all this," she warned. I nodded; suppressing a yawn.

"I second that, sister..." I agreed.

Lucy sighed, shaking her head. "And I was having _such_ a nice dream," she complained. "It was all about-"

Whatever my sister's dream had been about, we shall never know, for at that moment she was cut off as three Gryphons seemed to fly from nowhere, landing mere feet away from us. My eyes wide, I turned to the General for explanation. "Oreius...?"

He smiled. "Your travel awaits, sire."

My eyes widened. "You are not coming?" He chuckled.

"I shall see you there, Majesty," he assured softly. "Meanwhile, the time flies whilst we stand still, and I believe your brother is rather... impatient." He chose the word with a slight chuckle, which caused me to frown slightly, wondering what my brother had planned. I opened my mouth to question him, and he shook his head. "You'll forgive me, King Peter, but time is much of the essence."

I nodded, watching Susan and Lucy mount their Gryphons, with the help of the General. I swallowed, turning to the one allocated to myself. "You do not mind?" I asked the animal. It let out a deep, bellowed laugh.

"High King, if I had reason to mind, I would not be here, and neither would my brothers," he assured. I nodded, and took a breath, grateful to the General as he hoisted me onto the Gryphon's back.

"Fly, Arick," he commanded the Gryphon. "I shall meet you there."

In a sudden jolt that made me feel rather ill, we were in the air. "Hold tight!" I called over to the girls; barely sure they could hear me.

(******)

They were late.

After all this, my brother and sisters were late. I growled uselessly at the clear skies, wondering what was taking them so long. Could Oreius not find Peter? Were the girls too filled with frills and fancies to come? Could the Gryphons be leading them on a merry race around Narnia? Oreius had promised me post-haste, and here I found them rather lax. I shook my head, pacing. Midnight was nearing, and by the Lion I would not allow my family to ruin it. I turned to Gnallic. "If they miss midnight, we continue," I said, firmly. He raised an eyebrow, but nodded nonetheless. He alone knew how hard I had worked, how much I wanted such a time to be perfect. He had been my tutor and councillor for nearly a month, and I was grateful to him. I would not let my own family destroy that.

"Look to the skies, Just King!" A Hawk cried out, and we all glanced up. Relief filled me as I saw the faithful Gryphons not five moments away. I turned to a Phoenix, standing by, watching me calmly.

"Aeden," I called to him. "Light their Majesties way!" He nodded, and with a great cry swooped into the air. Within seconds he was all but a bright spot in the starless dark, before he swooped down toward us, his wings turning to flame. My eyes widened, barely able to catch sight of him as he breezed and ducked between the two lines of Centaurs, within moments setting their pillars alight.

"Gnallic?" I turned to the old Centaur, who nodded, and took up his horn, letting out one low, continuous note, that seemed to vibrate within our bones. The small group of Centaurs behind him stepped forward, forming a line, each taking out their own horn, and blowing into it. I closed my eyes briefly, listening to the melody I had written. The Centaur's had made it into something more than I could have ever hoped for with their music. As the Gryphons touched down, I saw tears in Susan's eyes, and Lucy looking about in wonderment. Peter looked confused as Remman, a Lieutenant, offered him a torch. He took it though, and moved to stand by my side. Lucy and Susan followed, seemingly overwhelmed.

I watched with a thrill as Oreius galloped ahead; bow and arrow in hand. With practiced ease he shot an arrow into the dark, where I knew the Phoenix still flew, somewhere above us. Within seconds the arrow was aflame, and span back toward the ground. As it hit the grass, the fire spread through the path we had created, allowing the fire to create a circle about us*.

"Oh," whispered Susan.

"By Jove, Ed..." Peter murmured, in a whisper.

I smiled. As the fire reached its start, the horns stopped. For a moment, all was deathly quiet. My smile faded as I realised now was my moment. I had never been good at speeches, and now I prayed the words I had rehearsed in my head so many times would not fail me. I stepped forward, taking the pillar offered to me by Gnallic.

I turned to face my fellow kin, and took a breath. "On this field, 2,700 of our own died to free Narnia." I heard Peter gasp, aware he had not known the numbers were as high as they were. "Tonight we honour them. Each and every night a pillar shall shine out from this spot, reminding us of the sacrifices they made, of the deaths they endured." I took a breath, seeing Oreius handing my brother and sisters glasses filled with wine. "Each year, we shall keep their memories alive, and honour them." As he handed me one, I raised it high into the air. "Hail to the Victorious Dead!"**

"Hail!" Called out the Centaurs, as instructed, and my family followed suit. We drank deeply, each lost in their thoughts.

For three minutes not one person, animal, or being, spoke. Eventually, Peter came forward, and clasped my shoulder. "That was well done, Ed," he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "Very well done indeed." He glanced over, seeing Oreius and Gnallic setting in an elaborated pillar, using the flame from one of their own to light it.

"I think, at last, brother, I am content," I agreed softly.

He smiled. "As am I."

As the Gryphons carried us home, with the Centaurs and our fellow Narnian friends following, I reflected. Tonight had not been the last time, I was sure, that I would know of misery, of guilt. But it went a long way.

Perhaps, finally, I would be able to let my misdoings rest in peace.

**Author's N: **

**** The phrasing "Hail the Victorious Dead" was taken from the film version of **_**The Two Towers**_** film. I couldn't think of another way to phrase it, and the words seemed to fit perfectly, so I used them.**

***The idea of the circle of fire was taken from the **_**Prince Caspian **_**film, in which Caspian takes the Pevensies below ground to see the temple dedicated to Aslan, where they have taken the Stone Table.**

**Note: The film shows Cair Paravel being closer to the Battle Field than the actual map of Narnia does. My idea that the battlefield is a day's walk from the Cair comes from the books.**


End file.
